Operation ICU
by Jerry Guarino
“That’s it. Now
we’ll just activate the tracker.” The
guard checked the wristband for security and
comfort, then had the prisoner, soon to become an
outmate, the new term for criminals released
under the Inmate Confinement Ubiquity
program, sign the release form. “OK, you’re
free to go. Stay out of trouble.” With those
parting words, the former con man left the island
prison and boarded the ferry for San Francisco.
It was 2015, the year San Francisco took a byte
out of crime. The new prisoner release program
had already been a success. While drug dealers
and those convicted of violent crimes like murder
and rape were kept behind bars, delinquents,
white collar criminals and first time drug users
were allowed to leave confinement with one
qualification. Each one would have to wear an
electronic monitoring wristband, a sort of
virtual parole system. Their movements and
locations were tracked by the massive
supercomputer (affectionately nicknamed ICU).
Now in it’s fourth year, the benefits were
adding up. Prison populations were cut down to
match available resources so more room was made
for violent offenders. The cost of maintaining
non-violent prisoners was cut by 80%. Instead of
feeding, housing and rehabilitating these
miscreants, the money saved was transferred to
public schools and teacher salaries. It was
ironic that San Francisco, the iconic city of
liberalism, would be the first city to install
the ICU system, also known as Little Brother.
The engineers from Silicon Valley had created the
technology on spec from the Governor.
In 2014, thousands of cameras were installed
around the Bay Area to watch out for crime, an
American version of London’s security
program. These cameras were automatically turned
on when one of the ICU outmates were in the area.
If an outmate came in contact with another known
criminal, an email and text message was sent to
local authorities. Even though outmates
understood how the system worked, some tried to
get around it.
Danny was back in his neighborhood. “Hey
Danny,” said Juan a member of the Chaves
gang. “They let you out?”
Danny pointed to the black wristband. “Sort
of. This is supposed to keep track of where I am,
but I don’t think it works.”
Juan smiled. “We’re going to hit the
bodega tonight. We could use a driver. Are you in?”
Danny gave Juan a fist bump. “I’ll pick
you up at midnight,” and he laughed.
But the ICU supercomputer was already tracking
their location and recording their conversation
through an ingenious, micro-sized audio
transmitter hidden in the wristband. They
notified the bodega owner to make sure he was out
of the store by 9pm for safety. The police
quickly installed two new cameras inside and
outside of the bodega and coded them into ICU’s
database. Blinking red lights confirmed their
position on a digital screen in police
headquarters.
Across the bay in Oakland, members of the MLK42
gang were welcoming back James, another outmate.
James didn’t tell the others about the ICU
wristband. “My lawyer got me out. Some screw
up by the cops.” High fives all around.
“Yeah, I need a score. Where’s the
mailman?”
Another member updated James. “He’s
over on International, by the record shop. He’s
sitting in his El Camino.”
James nodded, “later” as he took the
car keys from the table.
ICU heard the conversation, dispatched an
unmarked vehicle to the drug dealer known as
‘the mailman’s’ location and
waited. The police positioned the camera at that
corner above the El Camino, focusing on the drug
dealer. James pulled his car up to the El Camino,
rolled down the window. The mailman rolled down
his window. “James, you’re out. What
can I get you?”
James handed $50 dollars over. “Some ice.”
Flashes popped from the camera, sirens squealed
and two patrol cars boxed in the dealer and his
outmate.
“OK boys, game’s over,” said the
detective as he cuffed them. “We have it all
on tape.
“WTF,” said James. The mailman yelled.
“You brought this on me. I’ll have your
ass boy.”
Later that night, Danny rolled his car over to
pick up his crew. “I have some cold ones in
the cooler. Didn’t think we should take time
to shop at the bodega.”
His friends laughed and got in the car. “No
reason to wait. The bodega closed early tonight.”
Danny parked in the alley behind the bodega and
waited. He heard glass breaking, but no alarm. It
would only be a matter of minutes. A flash from a
camera above him went off. “Who’s there?”
Suddenly, police cars boxed them in. “Danny,
so good to see you. One day out, huh? I’ll
bet they missed you back at Quentin.”
The guard at the island prison shook his head.
“Well Danny, that wasn’t very long.
Guess you’re going to bunk here for a while.”
Danny shuffled inside and held out his arm. The
guard cut off the wristband. “Those damn
engineers.”
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